


living in the past sucked

by purplejohto



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Gen, Inspired by a chapter in the manga, My brain dreamt this at 4Am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:29:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23333893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplejohto/pseuds/purplejohto
Summary: America closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to sneeze. At first, he thought this trip around Britain with England would be fun. Visiting the haunted bars and the creepy castles and staying at old medieval mansions-turned-hotels for an exciting immersion experience; but now, glancing around him—America held his breath and silently eyed a thin arm-like figure slowly appearing in the window's shadows—He realized he had made a big mistake.
Relationships: America & England (Hetalia)
Kudos: 6





	living in the past sucked

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a panel in the manga where America complained about the creepiness and uncomfortability of the old Victorian Hotel room.

America stared at the ceiling of the old estate. Tired bags tugged under his eyes but whenever he gave in to the drowsiness, the unfamiliar Medieval English room would wake him up again.

The springs of the mattress dug achingly into his back. The curtains were too thin, letting in enough light to trick his brain into thinking it was day time. His face felt as though it was about to form another layer from the amount of dust that decided to settle and cake his skin. The room was stuffy from poor ventilation and lack of air conditioning. The floorboards creaked loudly at the slightest movements of any inhabitants or at the whisper of a breeze. Arguably even worse, the piece of wood America was staring at right above his bed looked like a face.

America closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying not to sneeze. At first, he thought this trip around Britain with England would be fun. Visiting the haunted bars and the creepy castles and staying at old medieval mansions-turned-hotels for an exciting immersive experience; but now, glancing around him—America held his breath and silently eyed a thin arm-like figure slowly appearing in the window's shadows—He realized he had made a big mistake. The daytime tours and listening to England's stories behind each door was fun, sure, but the moment night time rolled around, all America could think about was each and every horror story he had ever read or heard of.

The strange arm-like creature suddenly clashed against the window and America almost fainted. But then it began to slowly pull back, with a scratching sound against the panes, until it was out of sight. A few minutes later it crept into the edge of the windows again. It was just a branch. America sighed, his heart thumping wildly in his chest.

He thought sleeping in history would be comforting somehow, and then he remembered England's indescribably judgemental expression when America excitedly told him about how much he looked forward to the hotels. Now he understood. Living in the past fucking _sucked_. He missed his own bedroom and the comfort of his own memory foam bed. He missed the silent floorboards and the clean air. He missed the nice regulated air conditioning and the blanketing darkness that easily lulled his consciousness into sleep. But most of all, he missed being able to stare at his ceiling without seeing a face-like pattern! It was just like that one Powerpuff Girls Z episode and it was really creeping him out.

After a few more moments of deliberation and listening to the branch scrap across his window, he grabbed his pillow and blanket and stealthily made his way to England's room. Yellow light poured from underneath England’s door sill. Thankfully. If America silently snuck into England bed in the dark, shivering with fear, it would've been way too reminiscent of back when he was just a colony, plagued by nightmares every stormy night. America quietly knocked on the door.

There was a moment of silence before the floorboards creaked closer and closer. America winced in sympathy at the thought of those sleeping on the floor beneath. The door creaked open and England's face appeared.

"Ye- America?" England's face immediately went from subtly annoyed to a nice England Special Blend of irritatingly surprised. It was most likely the middle of the night, but it wasn’t like England was already sleeping so America shamelessly pushed opened the rest of the door and strolled into his room. America looked around the room, a bit surprised at the huge differences. He does briefly recall snatching the bigger room that was presented before even giving England a choice. The Englishman behind him sighed and the door closed with a click, "What is it this time?"

America turned around to face him, fingers fidgeting around the pillow, unsure why he was nervous all of a sudden. Maybe he shouldn’t have been so rash. After all, if he got kicked out, he would have to spend the rest of the night suffering from the woody fingers of a witch playing the strings against his window. "Well,” America started, “This place is so creepy and all… I just thought, ya know, I should spend tonight with you, cause, you're like, probably scared out of your wits or something, haha. Which, I am totally not, by the way, just, doing what the hero would do! Haha..."

If England saw through him, which he probably did, he didn't let it show on his face. Instead, England just looked indifferent, if not, with traces of amusement.

"Is that so?"

Whenever he glanced at America, one of those rap songs from the other's house would pop into his mind, _'His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy.'_ If it weren't for the fact that this was normal when it came to a terrified America, he would've thought it was pathetic. Wasn't there also something about a mother's spaghetti in the lyrics?

England sat back down at the desk supplied to him by the hotel. The electricity installed was incredibly old-fashioned and weak so it matched the aesthetic of the estate, but it also meant the corners of the room were dimmed to black. Which, America wouldn't usually celebrate, but at some visual peace and quiet, he was overjoyed. Thank god England's room didn't have any windows.

"It seems you've made it just in time," England continued, scribbling something down on official-looking documents. The fancy fountain pen looked out of place with its surroundings. "I was, indeed, getting very frightened by the house." Maybe if America paid attention he would be able to pick up the dripping sarcasm, so overwhelming that it was almost toxic. But alas;

"Hahaha! Really? Oh, dude, I never thought you'd actually be scared of this place too!—” England was almost 100% America didn’t even notice he let the ‘too’ slip, “—Shouldn't this be your natural habitat or something? You know, with both'a you guys being old and stuff! Haha!" America laughed, almost hysterically from the contrast of the previously riddling fear.

"This child..." England sighed in defeat under his breath.

"What was that?"

"I said, I'm going to let you stay in my room while you talk smack about me," England looked up and nodded towards the bed that was pushed into the corner of the small room, "Take the inside. I personally find it too cramped anyway."

America yeeted his shit on his side of the bed and almost cried for the security of hugging a wall in his sleep, "You're a lifesave- Er, I'm a lifesaver! You're welcome!"

England rolled his eyes but seeing how America was probably delusional from sleep-deprivation, tired from the road, and 'mind-wracking' with fear, he let it go. _‘After all,’_ England silently snickered, out of the two, he was the mature gentleman and America was the child in a man's suit.

While England sat at the desk, finishing his paperwork even on vacation, like a workaholic, America blissfully drifted along the planes of unconsciousness and the dream world, only waking in more clarity when England slipped into bed and snapped off the lamp. The external world, as far as America could recognize it, was plunged into complete darkness.

"England?" America whispered in a crackling voice, hoarse from sleep. You know, in case it wasn't England for whatever reason and he was being preyed upon by his sleep paralysis demon.

"Yes?" England confirmed into the dark.

"Oh.” he paused, “Just making sure you weren’t scared."

England scoffed and the two quieted for a few moments.

"England?" America called in a slightly more panicked voice.

"What?"

"Did you hear that?"

"Of course not. You're the one pressed against the wall."

"Oh." Taking the inside of the bed wasn't as fun as he had initially thought. Now, he could hear the vibrations and shifts of every living being in the hotel.

A few more moments passed.

"Englan-"

"Jesus Christ, there's nothing there, just go to sleep."

America's imagination ran wild for a few minutes as he tried to squint into the darkness he had just been praising a few moments ago, "But what if… what if something tries to murder me in my sleep!?"

"Alfred, if you don't shut the fuck up, _I’m_ going to murder you in your sleep."

The experience of the rest of the night differed between accounts. To England, it went off nicely and without another hitch. America on the other hand... Well, let's just say he was not okay. After persistent whining from a certain someone, they decided to cancel one of the two booked rooms at every haunted hotel for the rest of their trip. 

**Author's Note:**

> England's "If you don't shut the fuck up, I'm going to murder you in your sleep," was actually my brain @ itself last night.


End file.
